Seven Sins
by nostalgia
Summary: Set of ficlets. Seven people, seven sins. (Slashy bits in some.) 'Sloth' uploaded.
1. Envy: Sato

Title - Envy  
Author - nostalgia  
Rated - PG  
Summary: Hoshi and the burdens of knowledge. (Drabble)  
LD Codes: S/T'P, A/T'P, S/R (Wow, all in 100 words...)  
Notes: Cos, yeah, this mental idea to do a ficlet for each of the seven deadly sins. May never all emerge, but here's Hoshi anyway. (And what is it with these femslash bunnies lately?)  
- - - - -  
  
She will tell herself that ignorance is not bliss. She will tell herself that ignorance is a negative, a lacking, a failure.   
  
In the corridor, they will walk past her, oblivious. He will be frowning and shaking his head, damage-limitation for his ego.  
  
She will watch as the woman she loves blinks too quickly, eyebrow raised. Hoshi will translate actions. She will close her eyes and wish for blindness.   
  
She will take a lover with the wrong name and the wrong sex. He will smile, innocent.   
  
She will swear under her breath in twenty-seven languages.  
  
She will envy the ignorant. 


	2. Pride: Archer

Title: Pride  
Author: nostalgia  
Rated: PG  
Summary: Two friends fall out over a woman. Kind of. (300 words)  
Disclaimer: "Property is theft." (OK, Paramount. Nice try though, huh?)  
Homepage: http://bitextual.gatefiction.com/nostalgia  
Author's Notes: Second of seven sins (all self-contained, don't worry). Slashy recollections, unrequited heterosexuality, Dark!Jon and some annoying stylistic choices. What more could you ask for, eh?  
Seven Sins, "gotta' catch 'em all": http://bitextual.gatefiction.com/nostalgia/7sins.htm   
  
  
  
[warp four point five]  
  
There is nothing that needs to be said.   
  
(stress fractures, nervous exhaustion)  
  
How would you say it?  
  
("you hurt her. you hurt her and you don't care. you hurt her and you expect me to fix it")  
  
  
  
[warp four point six, because he was mistaken]  
  
The woman that you both love (unrequited, for how could she love anyone?) was right again and the wound reopened and he started thinking with his ego.   
  
He didn't yell at her though. That would make people think less of him.  
  
("she has our best interests at heart")  
  
("she has no heart")  
  
  
  
[warp four point seven, because he felt embarrassed]  
  
The woman who is not a woman (yours) suffered in his place. She screamed to you, and you were powerless. You felt and you knew and all you could do was plan ahead. You cared for her after the event.   
  
You repaired his damage.  
  
Do you hate him yet?  
  
(she might be his ship, but her heart belongs to you)  
  
  
  
[warp four point eight, because someone else knew the answers]  
  
Metal fatigue and the need for speed. Hurt, he is dangerous.   
  
The floor beneath you trembled and your fingers slipped pointlessly around the safety rail. Faster and faster and you started to wonder what he thought he was running away from.   
  
(you remembered)   
  
He was your lover, once, and you cared for nothing else.   
  
He is not the man he was.  
  
  
  
[warp four point, for his father]   
  
You are not here to fix him. (will you remember that the next time? can you turn away?)  
  
  
  
  
[warp five, for his pride]  
  
A shuddering, juddering halt and the pain is over, for now.   
  
He tore her engines apart. But you're the one with the scars.  
  
("it didn't used to be like this, jon") 


	3. Lust: Reed

Title: Lust 

Author: nostalgia 

Rated: R 

Categories/Warnings: Het. Angsty. Bad words. Slash reference. 

Summary: 155-word Ficlet: Hoshi and Malcolm. 

Disclaim: Braga, Berman & the Dark Lord Satan all have more right to these characters than I do. 

A date?: November 2002 

Author's Random Shit: The third of the 'seven sins'. Don't worry, they aren't all connected, so you don't need to have read the others. If you feel the need, though, they're at http://bitextual.gatefiction.com/nostalgia/7sins.htm

For Jyorraku, who wanted R/S angst. 

------ 

"Come back to bed." 

"I can't." 

She pushes herself up on her elbow, runs a hand through her own hair. "Why not?" 

"I'm your superior officer. I shouldn't be..." 

[_fucking you hard and fast against a wall in the armoury, sweat and skin and pounding heartbeats_] 

"...getting involved." 

She smiles, relived. "Is that all?" 

"'All'? If anyone knew that we were..." 

[_having each other more times and more ways than i have words for_] 

"...seeing each other..." 

"You think anyone would care? Seriously?" 

"The Captain..." 

"Is probably going down on Trip as we speak." 

He flinches, and she laughs. "You're so straight-laced, you know that?" 

"It's been mentioned a few times." He presses his hand against the glass, starlight on his skin. "Do you find me irritating?" 

"You can be a little..." 

[_frustrating, touchy, repressed, stereotypical, suicidal_] 

"...worrying from time to time. You just need to relax more." 

He sighs and starts naming the stars. 


	4. Sloth: T'Pol

Title: Sloth  
  
Author: nostalgia  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Summary: "It's not instinctive...": T'Pol represses.  
  
Disclaimathon: Berman and Braga own the inhabitants of the NX-01. They wouldn't do this with them though. Spoilers: 'Aquistision', 'A Night In Sickbay'.  
  
Author's Random Shit: Beta'd by kbk. Can't remember if Vulcan "touch- telepathy" is canon or fanon. It's in here anyway.  
  
Author's Further Random Shit: 456 words. Inspired by, of all things, a Kenickie song. Blatant theft of a single line from the epic Dr Who fic 'Velvet, Silk, Linen, Skin.' (Sincerest form of flattery? Umm...)  
  
The other six sins can be found at http://bitextual.gatefiction.com/nostalgia  
  
- - - - -  
  
  
  
Awake, it's not a problem. Awake she can control and suppress and analyse and nothing can perturb her. Given the choice, she would spend her life in a state of continual consciousness.  
  
But sometimes, like all imperfect creatures, she needs to sleep.  
  
And when she sleeps the training slips away and all the gains are lost. For hours - hours - she is at the mercy of her own emotions. They nag, cajole, harass, disturb.  
  
  
  
And she remembers defending his ship for him (their ship/their child). She remembers releasing him from bonds. She remembers his emotions - irritation, impatience, relief...  
  
Arousal. The definite, unique, human scent of testosterone. She remembers shock, a wave of disgust, quickly repressed. And...something else. A reaction of her own to complement his. Something that she analysed away as a stress reaction.  
  
She remembers touching his skin as the key found the lock.  
  
Touch-telepathy can be a curse.  
  
Awake, she avoids the memory. Asleep, her minds drift back to the image in his mind.  
  
[Her Captain, submissive and penitent. Kneeling. Needing.]  
  
She doesn't love him.  
  
[Her Captain. Hers.]  
  
  
  
Awake, she sees his arrogance and his petulance. She fights irritation and suppresses anger. She lists flaws and works around them.  
  
[Polymer, cotton, cotton, skin]  
  
She spends her days negotiating with his ego, correcting his mistakes, lamenting the species gap. Her emotions are entirely under her own control.  
  
[Her Captain. Hers.]  
  
She chooses not to find him attractive.  
  
  
  
She has to sleep eventually. She can feel her control start to slip as her heartrate slows.  
  
[Images and sounds and memories and feelings.]  
  
She feels herself drifting away from discipline and focus.  
  
She is falling asleep. She is falling from grace.  
  
There is nothing she can do to stop herself falling.  
  
  
  
[In some other place, not the real world, she lies bare between his sheets, stealing body-heat.]  
  
Humans think of sleep as peaceful. They see it as an escape. When they are depressed, they sleep more often. They advise each other to solve a problem by "sleeping on it."  
  
[In the dream world she sleeps beside him, his arm resting on her stomach. In the dream world she is possessive.]  
  
  
  
Her feelings are irrelevant. They are a distraction and a failure. They are inappropriate.  
  
[He runs his fingers across her skin. She shivers, sighs.]  
  
All it takes is concentration.  
  
[A kiss, a caress.]  
  
The price of peace is eternal vigilance. (A human phrase, though they miss its meaning.)  
  
[In the dream world her eyes are open, and her heart is racing.]  
  
  
  
She walks away from another argument. He will apologise, as always, in the morning. She wonders what humans dream of.  
  
"Goodnight, Sub-commander," he says as the door slides closed.  
  
He hasn't the slightest idea. 


	5. Anger: T'Pol

Title: Anger  
  
Author: nostalgia  
  
Summary: T'Pol  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Alas.  
  
Author's Random Shit: Fifth of the Seven Sins - 165 words.  
  
- -  
  
Of course she gets angry, of course she hates and fears and worries. Of course.  
  
She hides it though; she hides it oh so well. No one would ever guess that she is fuming inside, that the snide remarks and the petty squabbles slice into her, set her heartbeat racing.  
  
They're only human, known as xenophobes and hypocrites. She would tell them this, if she was the type to show her feelings. She would deliver them a litany of the stereotypes and the assumptions, tell them how well they conformed sometimes to the characterisations others have created for them.  
  
But she doesn't. She pulls the words back down into her stomach, allowing herself a raised eyebrow as her only outward show of disapproval.  
  
She will never respond as they do - a sharp slap across the cheek, an archaic obscenity, a bitter questioning of parentage. She holds it back, she holds it in.  
  
She keeps it all inside. She is T'Pol, it's what she does.  
  
- - - 


End file.
